


Someone New

by chasexjackson



Series: The Florist and the Punk [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, I am an absolute trash can of trash, I'm getting my shit together and organising my fics sorry, Meet-Cute, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Punk Percy, girly annabeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:20:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasexjackson/pseuds/chasexjackson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’m a punk singer and am hiding from fans in a florists and you work here and are snarky and funny and are adorable go out with me?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone New

I’m a punk singer and am hiding from fans in a florists and you work here and are snarky and funny and are adorable go out with me? 

Percy wasn’t sure he would ever get used to this attention.

He generally didn’t mind the requests for photos and autographs and hugs, their fans were great and he appreciated the hell out of them. He and the guys had been on the road in a crappy van, gigging in shitty clubs for long enough for him not to let the fame go to his head. His mom helped too, by reminding him where he came from and who he was.

So Percy didn’t get annoyed when he was stopped in the street, or interrupted at dinner, or asked to stay behind after gigs. Because these were the people who got their band to where they were now.

Unfortunately though, Percy seemed to attract a slightly different kind of attention than the other guys did. He thought it was the lead singer who got screamed at by teenage girls and had unwanted underwear thrown at them on stage. But no, it was he, the bassist, who had the pleasure of receiving those perks.

He’d thought his disguise today would have been good enough to at least allow him to lie low. But apparently even wearing a snapback and a hoodie and jeans without even a single hole in them, he was pretty recognisable. He hadn’t actually  _ run _ away from the group of teenage girls, but he’d walked pretty swiftly, pulling his hood up and stuffing his hands into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie as he jogged down a street and, after passing a group of German tourists, ducked into the nearest shop to lay low.

He was overpowered all at once by the smell of the shop, and it was this sense which lead him to understand he’d chosen a florists for his hiding place. How very punk of him. Aware of the older gentleman being served at the counter, Percy pulled his hood down and kept to the perimeters of the shop, feigning interest in the flowers. A moment later, the door chimed happily, indicating that the customer had left and Percy was now the only one occupying the small shop.

Deciding the shop was too small to simply ignore the shop assistant, Percy glanced over at the counter. The previous customer had hidden her from view before but now that Percy could see her, he didn’t want to look away again. She looked his age, with tan skin and blonde hair and a blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves to her elbows. Percy’s attention was drawn to the dangly earrings hanging from the double piercings in her ears, the piece of white string holding her curly hair away from her face, the beauty spot below her left eye, and then the sharp flick of her grey eyes as they focused on him.

“Hi.” He choked - on what? spit? Get it together, Jackson - and glanced down at his feet. “Um, hello.”

“Hello,” she said slowly, amused. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

Help me hide from a hoard of teenage girls?

“Um…”

She cracked a smile, Percy’s heart raced. Okay, enough.

“Buying for anything in particular?” she asked him. “An anniversary? A birthday, perhaps?”

“Uhh, my mom,” he said, walking slowly up to the counter. “I wanna get something for my mom.”

Her smile softened. “Is it her birthday?”

“Nope. Just, you know.”

She narrowed her eyes just a little, scrutinising him. Percy got it. The label had decided to paint his picture as the bad boy punk, with his tattoos and resting bitch face, he fit the image pretty well. Being a mama’s boy didn’t really go with that though.

“Alright,” she said after a moment. “Do you have any ideas about what you want to get her?”

Percy had reached the counter by this point, and drummed his fingers against the glass work top. “Not really. I don’t-” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I don’t know all that much about flowers, if I’m honest.”

“Really? I’m shocked.”

Percy was a little taken aback by her teasing, but he welcomed it. His body relaxed as he leaned up against the counter and he gave her another smile.

“She likes blue.”

She titled her head to the side. “I can work with that.”

She rubbed her hands together like she was about to conjure a magic trick, and chewed her lip as she looked around herself. But her gaze caught over his shoulder and her eyebrows furrowed together.

“What-?” Percy followed her line of sight and felt his throat constrict. Just outside the glass shop door, the group of girls who he’d managed to escape were huddled together, looking around themselves like a bunch of baby birds who’d lost their mother. “Shit.”

“Excuse me?” the girl asked, but Percy was already hopping over the counter. “Hey! You can’t come back here.”

Percy crouched down, leaning back against the wood of the counter and staring up at her with pleading eyes. “Please, don’t let them know I’m here.”

Confusion twisted her scowl. “What?” she asked, just as the door chimed and immediately, she looked up, composing her face into a practiced welcome smile.

“Hello,” she said to her customer, “how can I help you today?”

Percy froze in place as he heard the tell-tale sounds of feet shuffling in unison towards the counter. One of the more brazen girls spoke up. “We’re looking for, um, a guy.”

“Well, I’m afraid I only sell flowers in here.”

Percy bit down on his knuckles to mask his laughter. Looking up at the flower girl, he swear he saw her mouth twitch.

“Percy Jackson,” one of the girls blurted. “We saw him come by here, did he come in?”

“I’m sorry…?”

An impatient sigh. “He’s in a band.”

“Oh.” The flower girl’s eyes twinkled. “I see. Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’ve only got flowers in here. No rock stars.”

Percy didn’t let out his sigh of relief until the girls’ grumbling and shuffling was finalised by the doorbell chiming and the following slam against the door frame. Flower girl took her time looking down at Percy and he made himself busy staring at the buckles of her high-heeled shoes. Her tan legs were left bare up to her knee, where the hem of her colourful patterned skirt brushed her thighs, and Percy tried hard not to stare as he dragged his eyes away from her shoes, up the length of her body to her face.

“I thought you looked familiar,” she said.

Percy scrambled upright, wiping his hands on his jeans before he held one out to her. “Percy Jackson, nice to meet you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him before taking his hand and shaking it firmly. “Annabeth. Now get out from behind my counter. Just because you’re a famous rockstar, doesn’t mean you get special privileges.

Percy grinned as he slid back over the counter. He stood there and watched her.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow at him. “Does this happen a lot?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Percy shrugged. “I guess? Normally I don’t mind but I’m not really in the mood today and I was hoping to lie under the radar.”

“Good job.”

He laughed. “Yeah. Thanks for harbouring me.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “It’s probably the most exciting thing I’ll do working here.”

“So…”

“So?”

“How about those flowers?”

“You still want them?” She looked genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. My mom deserves some flowers every now and then. She’s had to put up with me for the past twenty four years.”

Annabeth laughed. “Fair enough.” She rubbed her hands together again. Magic stirred. “Blue, right?”

Percy nodded, feeling the smile tug at his mouth of it’s own accord. “Blue.”

 


End file.
